


To Give

by Alohomora92



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Family, Lessons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 09:37:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3605280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alohomora92/pseuds/Alohomora92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil teaches his firstborn son a very important lesson that all Prince's and future King's must know. </p><p>Just a little piece that will later be aded to my other story Greenwood the Great.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Give

Little feet pattered on the long hallway outside, followed by the deaf sound of a large door being pushed open. The Elvenking let out a silent groan, rolling over in his bed so that his back was towards the door, listening as his son’s little feet stepped across the large antechamber, heading straight to the door that led into the main bedchamber. Next to him, Alarya stirred slightly, pressing herself closer to him in her sleep, his head resting over hers on the pillow, the sweet flowery smell of her golden hair filling his nostrils. Valar, please, five more minutes. 

But the Valar was not on his side this morning. The elegant door creaked open, little feet now rushing to the side of the bed in complete silence. Then, the little feet stopped. A second of silence passed before the King of Mirkwood felt a light tug on the fine silk wine red covers, making a silent sigh escape his lips. Another tug. It seemed his young son as intent in waking him. He buried his head in the feathered pillow, too exhausted to wake up just yet, feeling Alarya stirring again before she slowly sat up on the bed. 

“Arahaelon, let your Ada sleep.” He heard his wife calling softly over him, managing to buy him one more minute or two of rest by getting the tiny elfling’s attention. Not that he did not want to spend time with his son- Valar, that was all he always wanted- but he was simply far too tired to even try to fully wake up, still half-asleep. The past week had been particularly draining. Meeting after meeting, council after council. He had barely had time to sleep at all. 

“Nana!” The little elfling chirped, quickly rounding the bed, the sound of his young son’s voice making a faint smile appear on the King’s face as he rolled over once more, his back now to his wife and son. 

“Good morning, my son.” He heard Alarya cooing, feeling the shift of the sheets and covers as his elfling climbed onto the high bed, nestling against his mother. “Did you sleep well?” 

His son must have nodded his head for no reply came. Instead, he felt the shuffling of weight on the soft mattress as the small elfling crawled over the bed, followed by a nearly negligible weight falling abruptly on his side and climbing over his shoulder. 

“Ada.” His son’s sweet voice sounded on his ear, a tiny hand messily brushing away the long strands of light blond hair that covered his father’s face. The Elvenking’s eyes were closed in a failed attempt to keep resting even after he had already wakened, his body almost forcefully demanding him more hours of sleep. The young Prince, however, had other ideas, and the King felt a little hand patting over his cheek multiple times. “Ada, wake up” 

“Hmm.” Was the only sound he was able to produce, his eyelids feeling too heavy to lift them.

“My son, let your Ada rest.” He heard Alarya’s sweet voice adding soothingly. 

“But it is morning already, Nana.” Came the elfling’s protest. “Wake up, Ada.” The child kept patting over his cheek, his little hands too soft for it to ever even start to hurt.

He heard Alarya sigh quietly, growing silent for a moment as his mind drifted in between sleep and reality, and he knew she was debating whether or not to wake him. He was very well aware that he needed to get up. 

“Meleth.” Alarya’s gentle apologetic voice whispered soothingly on his ear as delicate, thin fingers ran up and down his upper arm from behind him. “It is morning already.” 

Was it really? Valar, what would he not give for the Sun to simply set right there and then. Deciding that he really needed to wake up – if it was his intention to make in time to his first meeting of the day- the King of Mirkwood rolled onto his back, the elfling letting out a mirthful squeal as he fell right on top of his father’s chest. Something hard hit his chest along with his son’s inexistent weight, making him open his eyes in confusion and surprise. His confusion, however, was quick to disappear as he found the very, very familiar toy bow held securely in the tiny pale hands. Valar, the child never let go of that thing, he was sure he even slept with it! 

“Get up, Ada!” His son’s little voice squealed excitedly and the small child bounced over his chest, his in the Elvenking’s opinion all too tiny hands falling over his father’s cheeks, stretching the skin as far as it would go the sides before letting out a chorus of sweet little giggles. 

“Get up!” The elfling sat up straighter on his chest, and Thranduil’s eyes could hot help but studying his son while he heard Alarya’s beautiful laughter bouncing on the bedchamber’s majestic walls. A pair of large emerald eyes- so much like his wife’s- look down at his, so innocent and reachable, every single thought and emotion visibly displayed on them. His son’s fine light blond hair fell freely over his little shoulders, still tangled and messy from his sleep, perfectly framing a soft beautiful face, the features so much like his own. 

“Why do we not play a game, my son?” Said the Elvenking, easily picking up Arahaelon’s little body and playing him down on the bed next to him. 

“Yes!” The elfling squirmed around, getting under the fine, feathered covers, the toy bow still in his hands. “What game?” 

“The one who falls asleep first is the winner.” He said, already starting to drift off again. Valar, he was so tired. 

“No. Ada, your games are boring.” The King blinked a couple of times in an attempt to stay awake as Arahaelon’s giggles echoed once more through the room. He loved that sound. It was not loud or careless as any other child’s laughter. No. It was almost silent, as if shy, and at the same time so free and innocent. Even at this young age, his firstborn son was very cautious, always reserved, quiet and observant. Few elves in the Palace could manage to break through his careful shell and witness such a free round of laughter leaving his little mouth. 

Without another word, the elfling kicked himself free of the sheets and covers, quickly climbing out of bed before starting to jump up and down on the same place, tugging at the covers in the process. “Come! Come! Come! Ada, come! Come! Come!” 

Alarya’s musical laughter filled his ears, already stating to get out of bed herself. Almost reluctantly, he sat up straight, his very young son stopping his bouncing when he saw he had accomplished what he wanted, waiting patiently for his father to swing his legs over the edge of the mattress and raise to his feet. 

Large green eyes were looking up at him as he had placed the Sun in the sky, a sweet smile on his lips. Silently, Thranduil tied a long elegant robe over his nightclothes, Alarya gracefully walking to where his stood before placing a light kiss on his cheek, making him wrap an arm around her small waist in return. He leaned in to press his lips to hers, but at that precise moment Arahaelon chose to sneak in between the two, his emerald eyes looking up at his father. The young Princeling lifted his little arms, and without needing to even think it, the King of Mirkwood picked up the tiny elfling in his arms. The Elvenking could not help but letting out a light chuckle. The elfling had him wrapped around his little finger, and he had no idea. 

“Let us get you dressed and then we can have some breakfast.” He said to the elfling carried quietly in his arms, who gave a vigorous nod of his little head. His eyes blue eyes turned to look at his wife once more, watching her flashing one of her flawless smiles before disappearing into the bathing chambers. Then, he turned around, heading out of the large bedchamber and in the direction of his son’s own rooms. 

Arahaelon’s small arms were swung around his neck, so thin and tiny that they felt overly frail, the child not once squirming or kicking to be let down on his feet. The toy bow –still safely held in his son’s little fist- hit his back as they walk, but the second he attempted to take it out of Arahaelon’s hand to carry it himself the child only held it more strongly. 

“No.” Came Arahaelon’s immediate complain, large emerald eyes suddenly looking scared, as if he thought his Ada would take away his toy. 

“I am just going to carry it for you.” The King explained, finding it hard to hold back an amused smile as the elfling instantly shook his little head, in no way willing to depart from his so adored toy bow. “I will give it back to you.” 

“No.” The Princeling repeated, quickly retrieving his little arm to brace the bow to his chest. There was no doubt that from all of his many many toys the bow was the favorite. His son had begged for months for it, and, since the minute that he unwrapped it two Winter Solstices ago, he had rarely left it out of his sight. 

Knowing that continuing to insist would most definitely not get the child to let go of his toy, the Elvenking simply continued his march, gently opening the elegant door of his son’s bedchamber before stepping inside. 

“Good morning, my Lord.” The maid, Sidhel, who had been standing dutifully inside the large room, curtsied respectfully as he entered, her pale face unable to hide her surprise at his unexpected presence. He simply nodded politely in return, elegantly walking inside the room. 

Of course, it was not uncommon for Arahaelon to dash out of his rooms early in the morning, in order to reach his parents’ chambers before the loyal maid came to dress him and ready him for the day. However, it was Alarya the one who usually brought the child back to his chambers. 

“I will take it form here, thank you, Sidhel.” He said, his voice as perfectly calmed and authoritative as ever, giving the maid a small smile as she bowed her head at her dismissal before leaving the room. 

Arahaelon, however, had not seemed to have paid the slightest attention to the exchange, suddenly swinging his legs in an attempt to be placed back on the floor. Once again, the Elvenking complied, and the second his little feet touched the fine marble floor, the elfling dashed towards the bed, as fast as his little pattering feet would take him before climbing onto it, sitting over his heels on the soft mattress. 

Lips curving up in a smile, the King proceeded to grab the overly tiny tunic made of fine blue silk that the maid had already laid out for the Prince, before walking to the bed, lowering himself on the edge of the mattress, just next to his son. 

“You need to let go of your bow in order to get dressed, my son.” The elfling’s sweet and openly readable green eyes widen in realization, a small pout crossing his soft little face, but did not complain or object as he carefully placed the bow on the bed next to him. Then, without hesitation or trouble, the child lifted his tiny arms, easily allowing his Ada to slip out his light sleeping tunic and replace it for his day tunic. 

“Ada.” His son’s mirthful voice chirped just as the King managed to carefully slip one of his arms through the sleeve of the little tunic. “Do you know there was a bird this morning right on my balcony?” 

The King let out a small laugh at his son’s excited tone. “Was there, really?” 

“Yes. Right there!” The elfling’s arm turned to point at the oversized balcony just as Thranduil was about to slip that precise arm through the tunic’s other sleeve, making the King have to maneuver in order to grab at the little arm. 

“Was it a pretty bird?” 

“Yes.” Arahaelon nodded his head, his eyes now dancing over the room, seeming to be loosing his concentration on the subject at hand, choosing instead to curiously observe his surroundings. “It was…it was blue!” He exclaimed as his innocent emerald eyes turned again in his direction. 

“Oh, it was blue? It was a pretty bird then definitely.” The King smiled, playing along with his sons in his little amusing conversation. In no way was he interested in whether or not there had been a bird at the balcony that morning, but if it was Arahaelon the one telling him about it he would listed for hours and hours, regardless of the topic. 

“Yes, it was blue.” The Prince’s innocent voice filled the chamber once again as he climbed out of his father’s hold and down to the floor, now dressed in clean clothes. “Blue and red! ...And purple!” 

The King of Mirkwood could not hold back another light laughter, watching his son pick hi toy bow in his little hand once more before going about the room collecting other toys, no longer paying attention to his father. Valar, his son really did have an imagination. 

“That is a lot of colors.” He commented, hoping to get the elfling’s attention once more. 

“Mhm.” Was all he got as an answer as the child continued to look through his toys.

The Elvenking simply stared, contempt with simply watching his son darting back and forth through the room for long moments picking up toys and moving them around. What a precious little thing the elfling was. Valar, he would do anything to watch how his large sweet eyes lit up with excitement and joy every time he smiled. 

Log minutes passed before Arahaelon suddenly darted a look back to where his father sat, as if wanting to confirm that he was still there. A bright smile danced across the little face as he suddenly dashed in his Ada’s direction once more, a pair of frail arms wrapping tightly around the King’s legs, a tiny chin resting on his knees. Alost immediately, Thranduil leaned down to lift his son into his lap, unable to contain his urge to carry that precious little bundle close to him, a new round of giggles leaving his son’s mouth in return. 

“What do you have there, peneth?” He asked, noticing the small wooden figure now held in his son’s hand, along, of course, with the bow. 

“Der.” The child explained, showing animatedly his toy figure of an elven warrior to his father. He still had no clue of how his son had came up with that peculiar name for the warrior, but he knew better than to question it. 

“Do you want to play with him, Ada?” His son offered. “I will let you play with him.” 

The Elvenking could not hold back his smile. “No, my son, you play with him. But I would like to play with your bow, if you let me?” 

The child did not seem to have heard, too concentrated on examining his wooden warrior to fully listed to what his father had just said. 

“Arahaelon.” The elfling’s large emerald eyes turned in his direction expectantly. “Can I have your bow?” 

The child went silent, large worried eyes looking straight at him, seeming conflicted as if trying to make a very very hard decision. 

“I will…I will let you play with it, but for a little while.” His son’s voice was quiet, pronouncing every word slowly, large eyes looking sad and scared at the thought of lending the toy to someone else. His heart instantly warmed at his son’s words, very well away that Arahaelon did not let anyone grab his toy bow. 

“No, but I do not want to play with it.” He continued, looking at his son calmly. “I want to have it, because is really pretty. Would you gift it to me? Would you gift me your bow?” 

Arahaelon’s large green eyes widen suddenly, the sadness and fear in those emerald orbs so innocent and pure it made his heart melt. His son had his bow once again pressed against his little chest, his face looking troubled as if he wanted to say no with all of his strength but at the same time did not want to let down his Ada. 

“But you have one, Ada.” The child protested, his voice suddenly sounding so small and frail. 

“But yours is prettier. Would you gift it to me?” He asked again, watching as a frown appeared on his son’s face. 

Then, slowly, his son shook his head, large eyes looking apologetically at his father. “No.” 

“Would you not gift it to me? I would love to have it.” He insisted, watching as the elfling seemed to painfully consider it once more, before once again shaking his head. 

“No.” 

“All right.” He said, smiling at his son as he placed a gentle kiss on the little blond head, dropping the subject. The elfling however, continued to look at him, large saddened eyes studying his face. 

“Are you sad, Ada?” His son’s pure and sweet voice asked, making his heart melt once again at the precious child. “I would gift you Der if you want. To you want to play with Der? I would gift him to you.” 

His heart filled with warmth at his son’s offer. He knew very well how much the elfling loved his wooden warrior, even though it could not begin to be compared to his love for the toy bow. 

“No, my son.” He said with a wide smile, placing another kiss upon his son’s head. “You can have Der. And you can have your bow too.” 

Arahaelon smiled up at him, even though his bright green eyes remained slightly saddened, still seeming to be conflicted, making a pang of guilt pierce the Elvenking’s heart. Without wasting another moment, the King of Mirkwood scooped the child in his arms, gently rising to his feet. 

“Come.” He said, carrying his young elfling out of the room. “Nana is waiting for us to have breakfast.” 

The rest of the day, Arahaelon carried the toy boy wherever he went, as if scared to put it down for even a second, and even when he had gone to kiss the elfling goodnight the child had not allowed him to take the toy to its place, keeping it tightly next to him on the bed. It was not until many days later, once Arahaelon had entirely forgotten about his father’s petition, that the Elvenking asked again. 

It had been one of those rare days in which he had a free afternoon, and he had headed to the gardens, eager to spend it with his wife and son. He stood there for some minutes, at the edge of the large terrace that stepped into the gardens, watching the precious sight before his eyes. 

Alarya, his beautiful and sweet Alarya, was sitting on the green summer grass, her feet folded to one side as the bright rays of the sun reflected on her flowing golden hair. Arahaelon was snuggled in her lap, the top of his little blond head barely reaching her chin, as his tiny pale hands curled over Alarya’s around the edges of a large open book. The warm dancing breeze carried his wife’s musical voice, the sound filling his heart as his ears delighted in the song of the elvish words being read gently. Every once in a while the elfing would point his little finger to one of the splendidly illustrated images on the book, turning his large green eyes to look at his mother, interrupting her reading with yet another of his curious questions. 

It was Alarya the one to notice him first, feeling his presence through their bond, her endless bright emerald eyes turning to meet his as that particular smile, the one that could outshine the sun, adorned her delicate face. That was all it took for him to approach them, his legs leading automatically to her, as if his body could not stand to be apart from her. 

“Ada!” His ice blue eyes turned to his son, watching the elfling running to him as fast as his little feet would take him. The King of Mirkwood prepared himself just in time to catch the little body that flew towards him, easily picking him in his strong arms. 

“Nana was reading me a story.” His son’s innocent voice muttered in his ear, a pair of little arms securely wrapped around his neck, feeling so fragile. 

“But you have heard that story before.” He said, not able to contain a smile as he held the precious bundle in his arms, walking to where his wife was now rising to her feet. He had recognized the book the moment he had seen it. It was Alarahaelon’s favorite, the young child never seeming to get bored of the collection of stories inside. 

“Ada, will you play with me?” Thranduil could not hold back a light laugh at the child’s request. Valar, what had he done to deserve such a precious thing? 

“Yes.” He said before placing a gentle kiss on his wife’s cheek. “What are we going to play?” 

The child let out a chorus of his gentle and quiet giggles, emerald eyes suddenly widening as if he had received the gift he had been waiting for for years, kicking his legs animatedly to be let down on his feet. Without hesitation, the King complied, watching out of the corner of his eyes as his son dashed away to retrieve the beloved toy bow that had been lying on the grass by the book. His attention, however, was entirely focused on his wife. 

“Your son wants you to teach him how to use the bow.” Alarya’s delicate arms tied loosely around his neck, and he leaned in, placing his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. How much he loved her.

“I will see what I can do.” He said, pressing one more kiss to her lips, stretching the little time they had until Arahaelon returned running around and demanding their attention. 

As if he had read his mind, the little elfling came running back to him, a tiny fist wrapping around his long formal robes before pulling him away, deep into the vast clearing on the gardens. 

“Go, I will see you at dinner.” Alarya said softly, pressing the palm of her delicate hand to his cheek before walking back towards the Palace, a wide smile on her face. 

He shook his head lightly, allowing his son to lead him into the clearing before lowering himself to his knees in order to be at the elfling’s level. 

“Are we going to play with your bow, Arahaelon?” He said, delighting in the way in which his son’s lips curved up in his innocent smile, so pure, so shy and bright at the same time, having no need to hide any emotion, his large emerald eyes simply displaying his feelings. 

The elfling nodded his head, showing up the small toy bow for the King to see. 

“Are you going to let me use it?” He asked, his voice pretending an exaggerated excitement as he watched the elfling deliberating for a minute before nodding his little head again, a new smile on his face. 

His son was standing as straight as he could, holding the bow up as if getting ready to shoot an imaginary arrow. And yet, his posture was all wrong, making him let out a chuckle. 

“You will not reach any target standing like that, my son.” He said, his vice gentle. “Come here.” 

Obediently- a little bit over excitedly- Arahaelon walked to where his father kneeled, standing right in front of the older and bigger elf as the latter carefully adjusted his stance, his larger hands over his son’s little ones on the plain toy bow. 

“That is much better.” He said, smiling as his son let go of the string before turning around to face him. 

“When can I shoot a real arrow?” Large emerald eyes were burning with excitement, making the King laugh once again. 

“Not yet, Arahaelon.” The way his son’s face was probably the most adorable and at the same time heart breaking expression his eyes had ever seen, and for a second he was tempted to say yes right there and then, just to see a smile back on that little soft face. Thankfully his son made it easier for him by smiling once again, easily dropping the subject without complaining or insisting. 

“Do you want to use it, Ada?” A little arm extended to offer him the toy bow, and he had to fight to suppress a light laugh. The bow was all too small for him, a toy, not even strong enough to able to actually send an arrow flying, simply soft enough for his son’s little arms to be able to pull at the string. 

“Only if you gift it to me.” He answered, watching with a slight constricted heart as his son’s eyes widen in sadness and hesitation once more. “Will you gift it to me this time, Arahaelon? Can I have it?” 

The elfling remained silent, his face in the cutest of pouts staring blankly at him. His son seemed to be deliberating it for a moment, as if wanting to say yes but fearing to lose his precious toy at the same time. Innocent emerald eyes dropped to the grass, the expression on his little face one of shame and sadness combined, and then slowly, ever so slowly, the elfling shook his head. 

“No.” The word was barely audible as it left the little lips, his son’s eyes not turning up to meet his, holding the bow close to his tiny body. 

“Will you not gift it to me?” He insisted, gently lifting Arahaelon’s little chin to force the child to look at him. 

The elfling remained silent for a moment, as if thinking it again before he opened his little mouth and spoke in the same barely audible, sad voice. “No.” 

“But I will give any other of my toys, Ada, if you want.” The little elfling added, making his heart melt at the sad pair of pure and innocent green eyes. 

“It is all right, Arahaelon.” He said, giving his son a kiss on the forehead. “Keep your toys, and your bow. Now come, let us keep practicing that stance of yours.” 

The next few days passed by without any exceptional occurrence, the King did not ask for the bow again, and Arahaelon seemed to have forgotten about the incident. It was not until some weeks later that the subject was brought up again. 

The King was sitting behind his large oak desk, going over a high pile of documents that for some reason or another needed his signature. It had been an overly long and honestly he could not wait for it to be over, a headache already starting to form behind his tired eyes. A knock on the door turned his attention to it, calling softly for whoever it was to enter. 

“My Lord.” Doronor, his closest advisor, opened the door but did not step inside, holding it open instead. “There is little someone here who wants to see you.” 

Thranduil raised a confused eyebrow for a second, but his puzzlement quickly vanished as his advisor’s eyes indicated to another tiny elf standing shyly by the door. The first thing he felt was fear, immediately thinking that his son had been hurt in some way. Arahaelon never came looking for him while he was working at his study, unless it was a matter of great importance. His eyes, however, did not find any injury- not visible at least- in his son’s little body, his heart slowing in slight relief, but his confusion and worry only increased. 

“Arahaelon?” He asked, his voice soft, quickly looking at Doronor for a kind of explanation, but his advisor and friend simply shook his head, silently telling that he was as clueless as him about the matter at hand. “My son, what is it?” 

The young Prince remained silent, his little body standing shyly by the doorway, eyes looking at his feet. One of his small hands toyed with the hem of his tunic, his other holding tightly to his beloved bow. Sighing silently, the King pulled back his chair, opening his arms in welcoming gesture. 

“Go on.” He saw gently pushing his son’s little back encouragingly, watching as the elfling slowly, very slowly, stepped in inside the grand room, eyes still looking at his feet. 

“Thank you, Doronor.” The King said once his son had stepped into the room, looking into the dark blue eyes of his friend. 

“Of course, my Lord.” With a polite bow of his head, the advisor retired from the room, closing the door once again, and leaving the elfling to his father. Arahaelon had stopped midway between the door and his father’s desk, entirely quiet, his little hand still toying with the hem of his tunic. The King could not help but feel worry start to consume him all over again, his mind going insane trying to figure out what it was that was plaguing his son. 

“Arahaelon?” 

No answer. 

“Come here.” His voice was soft, his son immediately obeying him without hesitation, little feet pattering on the exquisite carpet as he suddenly ran to him, allowing his Ada to pick him up and onto his lap. 

“What is it, my son?” He asked worriedly, one of his hands carefully brushing through the elfling’s fine blond hair as the little face buried deeply in the robes covering his chest. “Are you hurt?” 

Silently, the elfling shook his head but did not look up, and the King sighed in slight relief. 

“Will you tell me what is the matter?” He asked again, his voice gentle, watching as for the first time his son’s emerald eyes looked up to his eyes, so large and innocent. 

Then, silently, his son’s little hand extended up, showing him the infamous toy bow. Fearing that the beloved toy had been damaged in some way, his eyes quickly inspected it, but found it perfectly fine. 

“What happens with it?” He could not hide his confusion, his hand still brushing down his son’s little head, large green eyes looking at him silently. 

“For you.” The words were barely audible ass they left Arahaelon’s tiny mouth, and it took Thranduil a moment to understand what he meant. His heart swelled inside his chest, as his eyes carefully studied his son. 

“Are you giving your bow to me?” 

For a moment, Arahaelon remained silent, eyes looking sad, but determined, as if fighting with himself for a second before slowly nodding his head as if was the hardest thing he had done in his short life. “Yes.” 

“Do you not want it?” He asked, feeling his heart filling with warmth at his son’s loving gesture, still wondering what in Arda had he done to deserve such a precious bundle. Once again it took the elfling a little while to reply. 

“Yes.” He said finally, his emerald eyes looking down to where his hand played with the end of his tunic. “But you want it too, and I have already played with it many times, so now you can play with it too.”

The Elvenking was sure he had never felt this kind of love and pride that he suddenly felt, his heart threatening to burst as he melted into his son’s pure green eyes, his hand carefully accepting the offered toy. He knew just how much Arahaelon loved that particular toy. The bow did not matter to him, he could not have cared less about the toy, all he cared about was that his son was willing to give, and give willingly, even if it was the thing he loved the most. 

“But what about you?” He asked, testing the elfling to his limit. “You will not have a bow now.” 

The little Prince looked down for a second, before focusing his innocent green orbs on his own ice blue eyes, shrugging his tiny shoulders. “I have other toys. I will play with them instead.”

And that was all he needed to hear. A wide smile appeared on his face, breaking through his peaceful, composed expression, easily scooping the elfling in his arms before rising form his desk. Silently, he walked to a large elegant cabinet, placing the toy bow carefully on its surface before retrieving a beautifully carved wooden box from the top drawer. Then, without saying anything he lowered himself to the couch by the large fireplace, placing his son carefully on his lap before laying the box upon his son’s little legs. Arahaelon’s large green eyes turned to him almost immediately, confused, as if asking for permission. 

“Open it.” He said, watching as the elfling’s little hand’s slowly lifted the lid of the box, almost hesitantly. 

The next few minutes were forever engraved in the King’s memory. Arahaelon’s innocent emerald eyes went wide, bright with a kind of fascination and joy that made a smile cross his own lips, watching as his son let out a surprised gasp. There, in the cushioned bottom of the box, was en exquisitely crafted bow. It was small, the size perfect to fit an elfling, but it was not a toy bow. It was a real bow. Of course, he would not let Arahaelon shoot anything other that toy arrows yet- or else Alarya might kill him. He was still too young to start training, but he knew that a little practice would do no harm. 

His son’s shocked eyes flew in his direction, his little mouth hanging open. “Is it for me?” 

“Yes, my son. It is all yours. And so is your toy bow. You can keep both.” He said, unable to fight his smile at his son’s delighted face. A pair of small hands carefully took the bow out of the box, holding it as if it was made of gold. 

“Can you teach me how to use it?” Emerald eyes looked at him as if he had created Arda for a moment, before seeming to remember where he was and quickly adding in his sweet innocent voice. “When you are not busy.” 

A pang of guilt consumed the Elvenking’s heart. How could he give an elfling a brand new bow, a real one nonetheless, and expect him to wait before trying it? 

“Why do we not go now?” 

His son’s eyes brightened in excitement, the smile only widening. “Right now?” 

“Yes. Right now.” 

He knew he would have to return to his study later that night once his son was asleep, and would probably stay awake the entire night working on them, but it would be entirely worth it. He would embrace his exhaustion and very probable headache the next day, if only he could see his son’s delighted face that afternoon.


End file.
